Failure: something that everyone is afraid of, yet something that is and will always be inevitable. Failure happens, and I personally feel that it isn’t how you fail, or why you failed. Rather how you pick yourself up after doing so, that defines you as a person. Now I know that sounds like the quintessential “pick yourself back up” phrase, and it kind of is, but there is obviously some truth to it.
Last semester I was still planning on becoming a high school history teacher. My adviser didn’t give a shit what classes I took, and after taking a quick glance of my first collegiate schedule I had ever made for myself (freshman year is made for you at my school) she quickly signed off and gave me my pass code to sign up for classes. Want to know how I chose my classes? “This sounds cool, I’ll take that.” Terrible right? Yeah, it was. I was a first semester sophomore in college taking two 500/600 level classes (that’s second year graduate). Russian history and England history were the two classes, and boy do I hate those two classes. Don’t get my wrong though, I loved every second of the classes, I learned so much about both Russian and England, which I am still interested in today. But the problem manifested itself in the way of grades, and it quickly became apparent that I was not up to par with the level of class I was in. I tried my hardest to do well in both of the classes, but simply put, I was shitty at everything we did in there. Whether it was world news, history in general, or the kings of England, I didn’t know anything. And even though there was no prerequisites when I signed up, it was obvious that there were lots of prerequisites… like a degree in history.
Needless to say I failed them both. My 3.2 gpa from Freshman year was now ruined and had dropped to a measly 2-point-something — So low that I didn’t even want to look (and I still haven’t). I was in a box of shit for a while, just stepping and standing, wallowing in hate and guilt and lots of other emotions (yeah, I’m a dramatic “failer”). And after a close friend of mine rubbed some salt into the wound about how he had warned me about declaring a major in history, I decided to make a huge change and declared a new one.
It doesn’t matter how you fail, there’s always ways to step back onto the plate and swing again. Besides, you can’t fail until you try (and believe me I tried super hard, and failed super hard in those two classes). But in the end I’m glad I took them and failed, because it made me realize history wasn’t my thing. I’m not one of those “everything happens for a reason” kind of people, but I am glad that it happened. So regardless what you do, you’ll be fine as long as you don’t give up (so cliché…).
When I tell this story to people most of them ask why I didn’t drop the classes. The simple answer is I couldn’t. If I dropped I’d have to add two more classes to be a full-time student in order to keep my financial aid and my lap top the school loans everyone. When I tried to drop, no classes matched up with my schedule or they didn’t pertain to it. So I made the bold choice to ride it out… I was at a 30% in both of them by midterms. It was awful. But It’s in the past and I’m looking toward the future (can you say cliché?).
As always, here’s some awesome manly stuff. It’s a band I recently found and I feel the song is about failing and not wanting to give up. You may think differently but It makes me want to not give up and punch small children in the face with joy. Hope you enjoy.